


like slow motion double vision in rose blush

by cheschi



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, College AU, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Modern AU, Secret Relationship, harrenhal is a bar, that no one asked for but which i wrote anyway in like 2 hours, they're so dumb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:48:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28164999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheschi/pseuds/cheschi
Summary: "Stark," he said, catching her by the hem of her sleeve as she was exiting the cubicle. Her lips were paler now, and her lipstick was all over his body.Drunk as she was, she raised her eyebrows at him. Jaime fought the urge to look away or play with the cuff of his sleeve."I don't have your number," he said finally, looking her in the eye.or, the one where no one’s supposed to know Jaime and Lyanna are secretly dating and sneaking around on campus
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Lyanna Stark
Comments: 6
Kudos: 44





	like slow motion double vision in rose blush

**Author's Note:**

> if ur gna listen to anything while reading this i highly recommend gold rush by taylor swift or green light by lorde

Jaime smirked at the sound of the door creaking open, turning around to greet the mystery intruder. "We've got to stop meeting like t—"

Whatever words he was going to say died in his throat and he faltered to a stop. 

"Well, hello to you too, big brother," Tyrion greeted him, promptly walking in to Jaime's apartment. "Your front door was unlocked. Judging by the expression on your face, that was exactly the intention but I'm not who you were expecting."

"Tyrion," Jaime cleared his throat and tried to compose himself, ran a hand through his hair. "I wasn't expecting you."

It wasn't supposed to be a mystery, though. They'd set the time a week in advance, making sure that this was when no one on his floor was going to be in.

Jorah was at one of his Philosophy lectures that he only attended because he had a crush on one of his blond classmates and wouldn't _shut up_ about it, Oberyn was in some secluded part of the quad getting high as he wanted now that the semester was over, and God only knew where Stannis was. He just magically disappeared on Friday afternoons like clockwork and resurfaced in their apartment at 9PM, looking bored as ever but strangely more calm. (Jaime suspected it was a cult. Lyanna suggested they follow him, but they'd only made it 10 minutes into their stakeout that one time because they'd found a blanket and started making out on the grass behind their bush.)

"That much was obvious," the younger Lannister agreed. "Do you have any root beer? The stuff they have at the KL Hall machines is _disgusting_."

"I know I said my place is always welcome, and it is," Jaime said. "But why on Earth are you here on a Tuesday morning Tyrion."

"The real question is who are you waiting for on a Tuesday morning. Is that Chanel I smell?" Tyrion sniffed the air and gave his brother a look. "Regardless, I came because Father wants you to call him back. Must've been urgent if he had to call _me_ to get you to pick up."

With that, he left the room, and as he was leaving, someone almost ran into him on his way out of the elevator. 

"Tyrion!" Lyanna Stark exclaimed. 

He nodded at her, "What brings you to this side of campus?"

"Elia left something at my place and I thought I'd pass it to Oberyn. He still owes me 20 bucks and a pack of cigarettes," she said. "That _prick_."

"Of course," Tyrion said. "Have a good day."

Lyanna beamed at him and made her way into the apartment complex. 

Tyrion chuckled. He didn't know the girl that well but Lyanna's eyes did that thing where they widened when she lied. For God's sake, Jaime's TV had been set to the tennis station, when Tyrion had never known him to care about any other sport than his beloved fencing. Who did they think they were fooling?

Idiots, the both of them, he thought fondly. He gave one last glance at the building and prayed that his brother would remember close his window.

Like most things, it had started on a drunken Thursday night at Harrenhal, the only place on campus with decent booze. After one too many drinks and being left alone to their own devices, they'd started hurling insults at each other after she called his hair flat and some 15 minutes later, they'd found their way to the bathroom while Tame Impala blasted in the background. 

As she was making her way out, something flared inside of him. 

"Stark," he said, catching her by the hem of her sleeve as she was going to exit the cubicle. Her lips were paler now, and her lipstick was all over his body. 

Drunk as she was, she raised her eyebrows at him. Jaime fought the urge to look away or play with the cuff of his sleeve.

"I don't have your number," he said finally, looking her in the eye.

Lyanna seemed to think about it for a moment, and then promptly took the Sharpie on the bathroom counter that had no doubt been used by the hundreds of students to vandalize the walls around them. She grabbed his arm, pushing up his sleeve and scrawling her number on his arm. Her handwriting was atrocious and he could barely make out the numbers. He didn't expect anything less from her.

"Don't call too soon," she said with a flip of her hair, grinning wickedly.

(Despite his best efforts at scrubbing, it took a full two weeks for the damned Sharpie to come off. He called Lyanna a week after the incident at Harrenhal's and blamed her for the fact.) 

"I like it when you wear long sleeves," she said. "You have nice arms."

The remaining week hadn't been so bad after that.)

There was a knock at the door. After she didn't reply the first time, the knocking repeated with a steady repeated rhythm. Lyanna clapped a hand over her mouth to stop herself from yelling out a name.

"Lya?” Someone called out, the voice unmistakable. 

" _Fuck_ ," Lyanna swore, pushing a very shirtless Jaime off her. "Get under my bed, Lannister."

"I'm going to kick his ass on the field," he muttered.

"Jaime, _now_ ," she hissed. Without warning, she shoved him under the bed and pulled over the comforter and tried to look normal when she opened the door.

"Ned!" she said, as brightly as she could manage.

Ned glanced around the room that was in a moderate state of disarray. Oversized vintage t-shirts all over the floor, right next to both beat up Doc Martens and shiny stilettos from the annual Stark Inc. Thanksgiving party only the week before. 

He caught sight of a brown belt on the floor, head tilting. His sister followed his line of sight and she kicked the buckle under the bed. 

Ned could've sworn he heard a faint thump, as if the belt hit something. 

His sister's room was notoriously messy, and he could only count the times over the years that she'd hidden purchases from their father by stuffing them in her closet shelves or under the bed. Old habits died hard he supposed.

“Anyway,” Ned continued. “You weren’t picking up your phone and I was in the area so I thought I might as well just drop off the tickets you asked for for the fencing match tomorrow."

"Sure, just leave it over by the table by the door," she said, strategically moving to cover anything else in the room that could give her away. "Next to the Marlboro." 

Ned gave her what she could only describe as Ned's Disapproving Look, highly influenced by their father's own Lyanna You Are A _Stark_ Look. Nonetheless, he turned to the table and was about to set the tickets down when he froze and accidentally knocked something to the floor in the process. 

Lyanna made a noise that could only be described as a squeak.

Ned stared, face turning red and the two siblings stared at each other for what seemed like moments on end. Ned coughed loudly, and from under the bed Jaime swore it sounded like the older Stark was almost choking.

“Right,” Ned started. “Cat. Outside. Dinner. Cat is outside waiting for me. We’re going for dinner. I’d ask if you wanted to join, uh-“

He started waving his hands like he did when he didn’t know what to do, and looked up at the ceiling. “I better get going. See you, Lya.”

"Right," she said. "Enjoy dinner."

When the door shut, Lyanna marched over to the bed and pulled up the comfort covering it. Jaime peeked out from underneath, looking up at her in a way she found almost endearing.

“You’re coming to my bout tomorrow?” He cocked an eyebrow at her. Something that was almost warmth sprung up inside of him. He coughed and told himself it was hunger.

"Shut up," she said, suddenly finding a corner of her room that suddenly became interesting. 

Jaime crawled out and dusted himself off. “What did he find anyway? I heard Ned go even more silent than usual and I didn't think that was possible.”

Lyanna sighed and picked up what had fallen to the floor — a single box of condoms. Opened, from last week if he remembered correctly. 

He cackled and she promptly slapped him across the chest.

" _Ned_ ," he wheezed. "I would've paid to see his stoic face show emotion for once."

"Hey," she snapped. "Ned has _feelings_.”

It happened many more times in the fall months. There was that time he'd all but stuffed her into his closet when Tywin dropped by for an unexpected visit, then again when Wylla had burst into the shower to borrow lotion and he'd had to hold his breath in the bathtub, and then only last week when they'd both stayed behind the lecture hall after Intro to Classics, and some poor freshman almost walked in on them. (In between all of this, her songs had started becoming his top played songs on his phone and she'd started wearing his shirts to sleep. God, they needed help.)

The charade finally came to a halt at Olenna Tyrell's birthday of all places. They were behind some podium and Lyanna pulled him to her by the lapels of his suit and then out of the corner of his eye, he could suddenly see a bright light. They broke apart, realizing the curtain had risen and they were on the stage for the auction that was about to begin. 

Jaime’s eyes widened for a minute and then he shrugged, taking her hand is in his own. She wanted to kiss the smirk off his face.

Rhaegar and Robert both looked like they want to wring his neck with a tennis racket or pummel him through a wall using a hockey stick, respectively, and it's easily one of Jaime's top ten highlights of his university life. Lyanna’s too, judging by the expression on her face.

Tywin didn't bat an eye. 

"They better not mess up any of the guest bathrooms," the matriarch remarked and Rickard Stark almost choked on his drink after that. 

On their way out of the great hall, he tried to give her his jacket and she refused, shaking her head. 

"I hate the West Coast," she said, face souring. "It never fucking snows here."

He passed her his scarf instead and buried his nose in her hair. “I don’t think it likes you either.”  
  
“The important thing is that you do,” she said, and then she took off running. He couldn’t exactly disagree.

**Author's Note:**

> this was a hot MESS but i wanted to post sth bc i'm obsessed and i'm writing a longer and hopefully better canon divergent fic for them so stay tuned for that if u like angst
> 
> comments are <3
> 
> on tumblr as cheschi and twitter as ineghafa if u wna hmu


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